


Momma, He's a Boy

by Dr33mer



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, During Canon, During Christmas Eve, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Growing Up, Hopeful Ending, I promise, Loneliness, Making Up, No Intentional Character Bashing, POV Outsider, POV Third Person, References to Depression, Self-Indulgent, Tom centric, Written in Present, angst for the soul, but thats normal i think, headcanon about tom i needed to get down, my headcanons aren't seasonly, not entirely major character death, sensitive content, surprisingly my first and only non-smut fic, tord is a bit selfish, wikihow to tag, yes i know its summer shut up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-13 01:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19590121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr33mer/pseuds/Dr33mer
Summary: Tom doesn't like Christmas or Christmas Eve, for an entirely different reason than anyone expected. And frankly, Tord doesn't like Tom.





	Momma, He's a Boy

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so first of all a disclaimer:  
> this is my very first like angst (w a happy ending) and im telling you now that its angst so proceed with caution or not at all. im just taking a break from smut since ive been repressed from writing and art for about two weeks bc of my exams, which are over now :D also this is very tom-centric like most of my works (unless this is ur very first time reading something of mine then hi)
> 
> this is set in england so british alternatives of words for things are gonna be used as opposed to american, sorry not sorry

_"Why the fuck do you keep ignoring us?"_

It's been two weeks. Two weeks since Christmas and the end of their break. Tom is back from getting better from his illness, which had him bedridden for a week. Due to his constant refusal and threats, none of his friends came over to visit during that week. However it seemed they didn't have to worry all too much since he came back after on the following Monday. Well, he physically came back, mentally... something changed. 

Tom is seventeen, in his last year of secondary school as a six-former. His school is okay, no particular bullying and the students are quite open about gay people. He has three friends: Edd, Matt and Tord, a more recent one compared to the other two. Before his illness he was happy and as laid back as ever but after, he was distant and seemed to only drift through life. The attempts of his friends to cheer him up barely worked aside from getting a small pitying smile from their eyeless friend; they weren't as satisfactory as they might have wished it to be when they realised it was a smile nonetheless. The Brit rarely ever responded to them but seemed to follow them when they hung out if only to not look as lonely as he felt. Sometimes, it was uncomfortable. Every once-comfortable silence was now filled with a hollow concern and undertones of distress.

_"Well, you gonna talk or what?"_

Soon, Tord has had enough. He was sick of being treated like nothing to some English brat who was so stuck up his own arse to realise that he was worrying them and would only respond to their actions with a cold shoulder. So he had cornered the smaller Brit in the locker room during last period, yelling in his face and becoming even more frustrated when he was met with a dead stare.

_"Is this a joke to you? You know what? If you don't even care then I won't even bother to try talk to you. Don't you dare approach us ever again. If you really didn't care about us, then you have permission to not pretend anymore."_

Tom is left alone after that, in a dimly lit room, pressed against rows of light blue lockers while lights pours in from the circular window in the door from the hallway. He slides down and tucks himself into a ball, listening as the school bell rings. It's the end of the day.

~~_And if, after that, Tord notices how Tom's lower lids seem red and puffy with faint red tracks down his cheeks the next day, no one needs to know._ ~~

Tom goes through his achievements and graduation alone that year, looking on while the people he considers friends celebrate together and pay him no mind. He receives his paper and handshake with a distant expression and seems eager to get off the stage.

_~~And if no one mentions how they notice how thin and sluggish he has become, it wouldn't matter.~~ _

***

Tom didn't take a gap year, instead he went straight into university. What would he have done anyway? He has no one to spend his time with anymore, definitely not his uncle who was just as relieved as Tom to have the 'freak' out of the house. Tom doesn't care, he cares very little for his uncle, he barely even considers him family.

It comes as a surprise when he was roomed with Edd, who shoots up upon seeing the eyeless Brit who was in the midst of looking at the door number and the room number on the key he was given with a panicked expression. Edd is ecstatic to say the least. All in all, Tom ends up being forgiven by Edd and Matt, who weren't really angry in the first place to be honest. So, once again, he finds himself dragged back into their crazy adventures and hangs out with the three almost daily. If it's any consolation, he's a lot more engaging than he was in secondary school, but they don't talk about that. ~~He tends to shut them off completely when they ask or joke about his 'antisocial phase'.~~

 __ ~~No one mentions the glares he gets from Tord or how he finally responds to the Norwegian's taunts.  
~~" ~~Traitor~~ ," he says.  
_"Shut up."_  
_"Why are you back, ~~traitor~~? I told you, you don't have to ~~pretend~~ anymore."_  
_"Shut the_ fuck _up, you don't know anything about me,_ commie _."_  
_"Tch."_

 ~~~~For some reason, it never feels complete. Sure, he is engaging and talking to them again, but it doesn't feel right. It's not like it used to be before that fateful Christmas break. Matt notices things. Things he's noticed since secondary and seem to have come to haunt him. He notices how thin Tom still is, how he barely has enough food with him most the time, how closed off he still is but most importantly, he notices how, when no one seems to be looking, Tom's smile falters for just a few seconds. It's so subtle and hard to catch but Matt does. And this time, he does mention it, when Tom has decided to call it a day and has headed home.

"I don't think he's happy," Matt starts, still gazing in the direction Tom had left in.  
"Who, Tom?" Tord inquires as if he had forgotten who Tom was in place of Matt, flicking off the burnt remnants of his cigar, "Well no shit, no one is, Matt. He's not particularly special in that region."  
"No, but I mean, it's been like this since secondary."  
"We don't know what he was even like in school."  
That seems to put Matt off, "And whose fault was that? We all know! We all knew he was way too thin, how he barely ate at school, how he was so... blank."  
Tord narrows his eyes at Matt who stands his ground surprisingly, "Either way, it's not _our_ business. If ~~Forræder~~ wants us to know then he'd tell. I advise you stay clear of it, wouldn't want you to get caught in the crossfire." With that, Tord leaves the brunette and ginger on the bench.  
Before Matt can consult the other party, Edd speaks up first, "I know it sounds mean, but I think Tord has a point, Matt. Tom likes his privacy, we all should just respect that."

So, for multiple years, Tom's privacy is respected and the topic doesn't come up again.

***

It's the 24th of December, Christmas Eve 2019. The ~~four~~ three friends and one enemy live together in a two story detached house, Tom and Matt having dropped out of university while Tord and Edd finished their courses. Nothing has changed since university however, Tord still hates Tom for reasons unknown, Edd still adores art and does commissions, Matt still notices things and Tom is still as withdrawn as ever. The only difference is, Tom has acquired the luxury of alcohol and he drinks it fervently enough as it is. It's uncommon to see Tom sober or at least not the least bit tipsy with plans to get even more drunk as the day goes on.

On Christmas Eves, Tom is known for locking himself in his room with a bunch of food, blasting music until Tord slams his fist on the door and yells at ' ~~Forræder~~ ' to 'shut the _fuck_ up!' and Tom turns the music down just a bit without rebuttal. The music is still loud and annoying but Edd usually steps in and tells Tord to help them with decorating the house before he yells again, to at least keep some peace in the house. No one asks why Tom does all this but they just assume it's because his father, bless the deceased man, used to be a Jehovah's Witness and while Tom doesn't seem like an exemplary Witness, what with all his drinking, cursing like a sailor and even his blatant support for gays, it seems to be the only assumption that makes sense. Then again, perhaps neither was Tom's father, considering he married a strange woman with no/black eyes. They can make as many assumptions as they wish though, Tom won't tell. 

Today is different though. It all starts in the morning where the Brit is usually found gathering up snacks to take with him to his hobbit hole. Instead when Tord walks into the kitchen, he's surprised to see the thin Brit actually making breakfast (a rare occurrence on even normal days) while no one else seems to be up and about.

"What are you doing?" Tord asks, unable to help the suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Cooking," he isn't lying and from what Tord can tell it's bacon and eggs which has his mouth watering but he can't get his hopes up.

"I can see that, ~~Forræder~~ ," no one mentions how Tom winces a bit, "I meant why?"

"Wanted to make breakfast before I go out."

"Where are you going?"

Tom slides a piece of bacon and egg onto a plate beside him and turns with a peaceful- no, somber expression on his face. He slides the plate onto the table and nudges it a bit in Tord's direction. He looks at Tord who eyes the bacon before glancing at the Brit who gestures to the plate then turns back to the pan, leaving Tord to sit down and stare down at now his breakfast. He eyes Tom's back again as he moves around the kitchen with lazy grace.

"Visiting my parents," Tom answers finally, paying no mind to Tord who watched as he slid another onto another of the two plates beside him. Tord is surprised by this, never one has Tom mentioned his family around any of them and his even more surprised by the plural because as far as he's aware Tom's father is dead. 

"Oh... How's your mum been?"

Hush falls between them again for a few moments, "Good. Probably. Happier." Tord doesn't question why Tom sounds so uncertain of that.

Once Tom has placed all the plates for Edd and Matt on the table, he seems to be set to leave. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes," the answer is swift and as Tord watched Tom go, a thought comes to mind; maybe it'd be nice, no matter how much he hates Tom, to pay his respects to the old man and maybe talk with his sweetheart of a mother. 

"Wait up ~~Forræder~~ , you think I can come too? Mrs Thompson's always liked me and I want to see how she's been doing."

The eyeless Brit pauses in his steps, considering the request. Those few seconds felt long and eternal as Tord watched Tom's back as it flexed a bit with every thought that may be going through Tom's head while he seems to become a bit agitated. He doesn't think he blames the Brit, he's made his life just that much harder by constantly taunting him and trying to start fights which sometimes lead to fist fights leading to them with their equal amount of bruises. No matter how small that Brit is, he can pack a punch. Though in this moment, his voice matches his physique, small but cautiously firm, "Okay."

So, after Tord has finished his breakfast and gets into something suitable while Tom waits around near the front door, fiddling with the spare earbud that isn't in his ear. Once the Norwegian does arrive though, he makes quick work of opening the door and stepping out into the porch, ignoring the car. That won't be necessary today. 

"Does Mrs Thompson live close?"

"It's within walking distance," he answers blandly instead before they begin their trek. Tord glances at Tom as they walk, the Brit has bags under his eyes and his usual resting bitch face seems even more somber today as his frown tugs down further than normal but he pays no attention to Tord even if he can feel his gaze, far more interested in the music currently playing through of his earbuds while the other dangles uselessly. Even from where he is, he can hear the muffled song - a calm and soothing one with a slow tempo. It fits, Tord notes, but he can't tell if it fits the mood the Brit seems to be in today or it soothes him. It doesn't matter, he then figures, since when has anything about Tom mattered to him? The answer is never, and it never will either. Tord doesn't bother Tom, he had originally wanted to go alone and Tord had imposed on him enough just wanting to visit his mother. On the other hand, Tom had given him permission to come along, so if anything Tom had brought this upon himself. Again, it doesn't matter, he reminds himself as he glances at Tom again who seems to be looking forward, it was always hard to tell with those... freaky 'eyes' of his. Tord's lips pull back a bit in disgust, they're weird, unnatural. Always dark and wide or half lidded, it was hard to tell if he actually had eyes or simply lacked them which didn't make sense because he surely would be blind or something. As weird as they are though, he hates to admit that they are also kind of fascinating because of this.

Soon, they stop and Tord realises that they're making a pit stop at a flower shop but most of the flowers have been moved inside as opposed to outside in the Christmas cold, there doesn't happen to be much business around this time of year either. Tom barely gives Tord any attention as he goes in as though the Norwegian was a ghost following him and was not worth his time, what a stuck up prat. The bell above the door chimes as the two enter, alerting the young clerk of their presence. She blinks in surprise but quickly a smile comes to her face, "Hi there, how can I help you or are you just browsing?"

Politely (for once in his life) Tom answers in a hushed voice, "I'm here to pick up two bouquets of Chrysanthemum and Queen Anne's Lace. Under the name Tom Thompson." Tord hasn't a clue what the flowers mean or how Tom perfected the name of the first one but he doesn't ponder too long on the details. The clerk nods along and for usual procedure asks for his birthday to which he answers, "26 June." For some reason, Tord makes note to remember that. Had anyone even gotten him anything last year? Tord wasn't sure.

She takes out a clipboard beneath the desk and writes something before ticking it off then leave the two alone while she excuses herself to go into the back and get the ordered flowers. This then allows Tord to think. Two bouquets? Well Tom did mention his 'parents', so it's likely their second or last pitstop would be the graveyard to pay respects to Tom's father, he's never heard Tom mention his family but he guesses Tom is an enigma and he doesn't know everything about him as this proves. Before long the clerk comes back with two large bouquets that look almost identical with a mix of a pale lilac flower with purple accents in a circle surrounding another which looks even stranger, fully white but with what looks multiple tiny buds which make up to make a large white one in the middle. It looks nice, he admits.

Tom pays the necessary amount and if he was overcharged a bit he doesn't seem to care or doesn't mind supporting the small business for a few more pennies (read: pounds) which would typically be used for alcohol. But as Tord realises, nothing is very typical about Tom. After, they walk in the same direction they had come from, towards the cemetery. Seems Tord was right. He shoves his hands into his pockets while Tom stops at the entrance and takes a breath, for the first time since they've left, Tom has leaked out a bit of emotion. Tord turns a blind eye and simply waits until Tom is ready to go in, but he offers no comfort for the Brit, it would feel awkward and uncomfortable to step out of his role to do so.

Luckily he doesn't have to feel guilty too long because after a bit, Tom walks in, clutching the bouquets tightly in his grip. He looks around a bit and then seems to know here he's going as Tom heads down the gravel path, crunching beneath his checkered printed shoes which are old and worn but Tom loves them too much to ever replace them so until they are turning to dust, he's keeping them. Tord hangs behind a bit before he does will himself to follow, he hadn't initially come here to pay respects but that was what he was doing now it seemed. Tom walks to a gravestone toward the left of the cemetery and finds the gravestone he's looking for before sitting down on his knees in front of it, it's simple and a bit dirty but nothing over the top. Tord reads it under his breath, "In loving memory of Tyler Thompson."

Tom is quiet as he rests one of the bouquets against the gravestone and then reaches up to brush off any dirt and dust on the gravestone. Clearly no one has cleaned it in a while and Tord's not sure if that reflects on Tom too. Tord turns a blind eye once again as Tom becomes a bit overcome by emotion and puts the other bouquet on the ground beside him so he can reach over and hug the gravestone tightly, closing his eyes as he takes a quiet, ragged breath in a clear effort to not cry. He doesn't want to cry in front of his father, even if he didn't know him very well considering he died when he was only three and Tom doesn't want to forget the very vivid memories he has of his father. He murmurs softly to the gravestone in a voice too inaudible for Tord to catch what he is saying. Tord feels as though he should say something too but he didn't know Tom's father or even Tom when the man was alive so he would feel out of place doing so.

"H... Hey Momma," Tord catches Tom choke out in a wavering voice and glances down to see Tom having moved to the side and gently hugging another gravestone. Tom places the other bouquet on the soil in front of the gravestone where other flowers have also grown. Something in Tord collapses as he eyes the scene. Small vines dangle from "Bianca May-Thompson"'s stone commemorating "a loving wife, mother and sister - an angel sacrificed too early", the gravestone even has a warm and homely feel to it as Mrs Thompson often did; it's understandable when Tom doesn't pull away from it and takes many deep breaths to steady himself. Something about him, reminds Tord of the teenager he once had a crush on before their fall out, his helplessness and vulnerability that Tord is unfamiliar with on the Brit's face unnerves him. He takes another breath and tries again, pulling away a bit while unmindful to the dirt on his jeans and hoodie.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't... visit you and Dad f-for the past... six years. Not even for your funeral, I'm sorry," Tord's eyes widen a bit at that. As far as he is aware, Tom is twenty-three and therefore six years ago, he was seventeen. He crouches down quietly beside the mumbling Brit to eye the engravings on the stone _"15 May 1967-24 Dec 2013"_. "I j-..." He hiccups and buries his face into one of his hands and takes another breath to compose himself, "I-I couldn't do it... A lot happened that year an'... so... fast. Jus' I don't understand! Was I... n-not enough, did you really have to wait until I was of a more 'mature' age and when it suitable for you to leave me?" His voice rises before he sobs softly and curls into himself, "That year, I felt s-so lonely." That, that simply phrase hit him hard as all the pieces suddenly fall into the puzzle that is Tom and the guilt is overwhelming. His mind flashes back to the time where they were teens before their fall out, where Tom had meekly admitted that he saw all three of them as his family which had Edd and Matt laughing loudly and cooing over the flustered Brit while Tord had simply smiled fondly at the sight.

"It's one thing being the school freak," Tom starts up again, rubbing his tears away in frustration, "One thing when I'm finally happy since Dad died and then... then you go an' do this! Because- Because it doesn't matter what your s-son ever felt about any of it, you just had to wait until it was suitable or you and I don't even get a fucking note!" He's yelling again, but not in anger just frustration and confusion, "I tried t-to keep you happy, Momma, I tried to be the best son I could. I know I wasn't t-the best son, I d-d-didn't always get good grades... But I tried. I _tried_ , didn't that at least mean something, anything? Was I just... the burden Dad left for you to take care of?" He shook his head, "I tried to understand, for the pas' six years I've been tryna figure it out an'... But I don't, at- at all. You could've... I dunno, left me a note? Left a note so at least I could understand and get some closure, but no! No, I... I had to come into the bathroom to find you _dead_ and bleeding out in the bathtub, and it-it-it scared me so uh because I was in my room the whole day, I was in the house and... I could've stopped you... I've lived with that regret for six... long years," His voice becomes soft and soon new tears replace old ones, flowing down his cheeks as he swallows thickly. Tord could only stare at the bouquet of flowers with overwhelming guilt and shock, unable to bring himself to look at Tom - he doesn't deserve to look at him.

There's silence for a bit while they both stew in their thoughts, filled only by Tom's quiet, almost inaudible sobs, he's learnt to cry quietly so he didn't have to wake Uncle, so he didn't accidentally wake his housemates and that hurts too. Tord finds anger well in him, at himself and Edd and... he isn't that mad at Matt, Tord decides as he reminisces the time Matt had warned them to Tom's long term depression, but he does also recognise that Mat knew Tom was not in a good place and just went along with the other's silence for his own benefit. Sorrowful glances do little to comfort someone; no acknowledgement, however, does _nothing_ to comfort someone. Tom draws in another breath and Tord's thoughts automatically come to a halt.

"I'm not angry, at anyone, alive or not," Tom admits in that soft tone again, ignoring his tears this time as they drip down his chin or down his neck, it's said in a way that is meant to bring comfort and holds the understanding the Tom said he lacked. It almost comforts Tord. "I'm not mad at you or Dad for dying, I'm not mad at Uncle for blaming me for your death, I'm not mad at my friends for leaving me when I needed them. I'm... I-I don't," he sniffles ad lifts his sleeve to rub his nose against it, "I'm mad at..." Tord holds his breath quietly. "Myself. Because... I should've realised y-you weren't okay, you weren't satisfied with a meagre son while the man you loved w-was dead. And... I wish that... That is was me who died, i-instead of Dad. I'm mad at myself for getting addicted to alcohol, but I can't... stop.

"Um, anyway," He gives a useless laugh and rubs his eyes with another sniffle before finally acknowledging Tord again, who hesitantly lifts his gaze and looks incredibly defeated once he sees the Brit's small smile which mirrors how Tord feels. "You, ah, w-wanted to... Talk to Mum right? Well... Here you go."

Tord stares at the man in blue, who looks drained, there's no sense of relief that he finally had an outlet to his emotions after six years because despite common belief, grieving to a stone isn't very effective when said stone meant to represent someone, gives no closure. He shifts after a long moment of eye contact and faces the tired man fully, allowing him to cup his flushed and wet cheeks. Sincerely he speaks, "I'm sorry, min snøroppe. You' did good, let me help now," then he pulls Tom into a firm hug. 

It takes a bit before Tord feels Tom's nimble fingers latch onto the back of his hoodie weakly and he relaxes into his hold, head gently landing on Tord's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a bit longer than I was expecting but that's alright lmao  
>  there will be no other chapter, this ending is open on purpose because I want it to be open to reader interpretation but there is implied hope in it so there is a sort of happy ending  
>  my writing in this is quite atypical from my other fics but that's because this is entirely self indulgent, so while constructie criticism is nice, please don't pas too hard of a judgement on me i wanted to explore my headcanon that both of Tom's parents died during his adolescence and give a reason for why Tord and Tom fight so much because i imagine they were best friends in school
> 
> ***
> 
> "Come on, let's go Tom, your family have been waiting for you."  
>  "Family?"  
>  "Me, Matt and Edd."
> 
> "Okay."


End file.
